Not in all me born days!

When I was a kid, Eason was a bookstore that held treasures I wasn’t privy to. When I was a teenager, working on the other side of O’Connell Street in Madame Nora’s (I know, sounds like a brothel, right?), Eason was a bookstore that held treasures I could rarely afford. When I was a young mother, Eason was a bookstore to lose myself in. To browse in, to inhale that new book scent, to flick through the pages of text, to marvel at the most beautiful cover art and read the blurbs and author biog...